


Daddy Issues

by summoninglupine



Category: DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Issues, Doomed Timelines, Dystopia, F/M, Gen, John Constantine is absolutely out of character in this cartoon, Mallrats References, Out of Character, Poorly animated cartoons, Unapologetic Hellblazer references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoninglupine/pseuds/summoninglupine
Summary: At the end of the world, it was easier to love someone who was weak, rather than a man who, in her recollection, remained forever perfect.
Relationships: Raven/Superman
Kudos: 13





	Daddy Issues

It was easy to love him now he was weak, she thought without shame. She would have liked to have mustered shame, she would have liked to have felt bad for feeling thus, but here, at the end of the world, what did it matter; what was the point in shame when there was no one left to remind you of what morals really were. She liked the fact that he pretended though, she liked the fact that what he did, he did in the service of an imagined greater good, as if it hadn’t been him who had brought it all down on them anyhow.

It didn’t matter, she thought as she watched him, as she traced the lines of liquid Kryptonite with her eyes, knots of calcified magic beneath the pale skin. She remembered the day the world had ended, when the fallout of his hubris became apparent, the first news that the Justice League had failed, that the world had been subsumed by the forces of Apokolips— _Para-dooms_ , he called them, the ugly fusion of Parademons and ancient Doomsday genetic code. 

In the dark, when she heard him whimper in his sleep, when he rolled over to touch her, tears still in his eyes, she felt the heat of his desperation, the burning of his passion, his need to be alive, to be close to someone—to be human. She wondered spitefully in those moments if his wife had ever known him like this, if she had ever been able to take him inside of her, to feel the shudder of his cock as he came inside her. They said that before the world had ended, before Darkseid had filled him with Kryptonite, that his physiology had been too different, that the force of his ejaculation would have been too strong for a human womb to have endured anything other than haemorrhage and internal bleeding. Perhaps, they had tried, she thought, perhaps that’s why they didn’t have children.

She followed him around the filthy room with her eyes, watching as he conversed with the magician and his pet devil, and she felt a kind of disgust both at the fact that he still deferred so much to a woman like Lois Lane, and that he genuinely believed that a man like John Constantine could help them.

There was no help, there could be no help, she did not need the ceaseless voice of her father in her head to tell her that. And yet she remained by his side, if only because those moments in which he crawled on his knees to her, those moments in which he cried as he came inside of her, those were special to her, those were moments in which she felt she could love him, she felt she could be something more than the mongrel daughter of a devil and a human summoner—that she could be a woman to be desired.

She turned away, unwilling to watch the scene as it unfolded, unwilling to watch as he tried to placate them, the dregs of their community, a failure of a sorcerer and a devil with no teeth. 

_Etrigan_. 

She knew the name well, she knew the hierarchy of Hell and where the rhyming demons sat in the ecology of that other world, and she knew that, for such a creature to be here, it meant that there even less that remained of that other place than there was of Earth. 

In her head, her father raged, his fury a jab of constant pain that tore through her thoughts eternally. He was there when she woke, there when she slept, when she ate—and he was there when she was touched, there when she lay beneath Kal-El and felt the warmth of his breath, traced the scars left by Darkseid upon his chest.

A smile caught her lips. What must it be like, she wondered, to be trapped in your own daughter’s head as she was fucked by the Last Son of Krypton? The smile widened as she felt the presence burn all the more brightly between her eyes. 

Take that, you evil son of a bitch, she thought.

Constantine was another matter, she reflected; Constantine should _not_ be here. Long ago, that man, wretched coward that he was, had sold his soul to Hell. That particular argument, the claim of the triumvirate of Hell over his soul meant that his death would once have meant civil war in the realms beyond. Now though, what did it mater, if there was nothing left below, no place for the dead to find rest in the eternal arms of suffering.

Their voices raised, and she watched her lover as he argued for a better world. Had he used those same words when he rallied his forces before Apokolips, she wondered? It must be nice to believe in a better world, she thought idly, to hold onto the thought that even after all this, there was still hope.

She sighed, hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, watching their conversation, asking herself how long it would go on for before the sound and smell of them finally caught the attention of the Para-dooms. It would be better if she went out there herself, better if she started screeching to the heavens, brought them down so that they might finally put to rest such miserable dreams. But she did not. She just waited, standing before the broken door, desperate to believe that the things the man she loved believed in could one day come true, and all the while knowing that they could not.

At least like this they were together, she thought, the daughter of a devil and a man who she had thought unobtainable before all this; at least Darkseid’s bitter revenge had done that much for her. She felt the consciousness of her father burnt with blistering contempt, and, again, she smiled. 

It’s all right, she thought, you can admit you want him too.

Beyond the broken doorframe, she thought she could hear the beat of leathery wings against the ugly dawn.


End file.
